Collecting Hearts
by MaplePucks
Summary: A demon sent out to collect hearts for the cause. He can't go in his demon form, he must choose a Lost Soul. A Persona to be. Who to be today? Perhaps his favorite, a French soul named Francis. *Demontalia, OC characters*


**Hello all!**

 **This fic is a hybrid of both original material and fanfiction. Most of the original stuff I've been working on has to due with my cast of demons. Here you meet Ariste. Balthos is not exclusively mine, but part a good friend on DA. We created him together. The idea of Persona's is also mine.**

 **Hetalia, of course, does not belong to me.**

 **Enjoy and comments are always appreciated, especially on a fic like this.**

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Standing at the edge of the portal to world above, the demon flexed his long dangerous claws and hummed in thought. It was nearing the end of the month, and his quota for human hearts. Infecting them with sin, or stealing them completely. Lucifer didn't care how, he just wanted humans under his reign. Anyway he could. Few demons had that responsibility, Ariste was just one of those lucky ones. And he loved it. It did his black heart good to infect worthless humans with sin and malice.

Right now, he was trying to decide who to be today. Obviously he could not journey to the world above looking the way he did in his demon form. He was tall, taller then any human, and thin. His skin was leathery and black as night, all over, head to toe. He didn't wear clothes but neither did he have identifying genitals to be embarrassed over either. The hip long jet black hair certainly set him apart from most humans.

The large black wings, horns and piercing red eyes didn't help matters either. Not in the human world anyway. Down here, he was a threatening presence, even among his fellow demons.

Over the past month, he had chosen some of his favorite Persona's to be. A chipper, bright Spaniard boy who could win over hearts, so to speak, in an instant. There was also a fun "Prussian" boy, loud and bombastic but could win people over in no time. Ariste also favored being a ridiculously over the top American and a shy, quiet Canadian who actually did the job well at winning people over. All of those Persona's where fun to be but there was one he favored above all.

A sassy, sophisticated, gay Frenchman named Francis.

When Ariste changed into Francis, he found that he could charm anyone, anywhere. This Lost Soul was something special, and Ariste was glad he had claimed him for his Persona first before any other demon could. Francis was social, Ariste could feel the urge and want to be with people and around people every time. That was core to a good Persona, of course, but with Francis it was stronger then any other. He had a yearning to help and to love people. To help make them happy. Ariste's black heart was able to take that feeling, and intensify it into a longing for destruction, unhappiness and hate. Francis gave Ariste little trouble when it came to infecting hearts. Sometimes, even a surplus of wealth.

That's what Ariste needed now, a surplus. He was behind by ten hearts and Lucifer would not be very pleased with him for it. Ariste would like to avoid another trip to Purgatory as punishment, minding the Lost Souls that end up trapped there. Now that was Hell.

Once he had decided to use Francis, the change was easy. Ariste closed his eyes and held out his hand, palm side up. It only took a few moments for a white ball of light to appear, dim at first then brighter to the point if Ariste opened his red eyes to look at the Lost Soul in his hands, he'd be blinded. Only one way to take it in, Ariste's mouth opened, his fangs bared. One bite, two. For the Soul, he supposed being eaten every time the Demon needed him was fairly traumatic. But the screams he heard in his head psyched Ariste up.

Like an athlete listening to music before a big game. The Championships.

As soon as the Persona was ingested, Ariste's body began to change. He grew shorter, but was still a tall human. His skin turned pale but beautifully tanned like he had spent time laying out on the beach. Every inch of his body was tanned. His black hair shortened, grew blond and wavy, hair appeared on chin. Clothes materialized on his body, designer clothes. The ones his Soul had died in, certainly stylish. When the transformation was done, he tossed his hair back and took out the mirror he knew was in the right pocket of his pants. He primped and was ready to go into the portal to begin his night when he heard a voice beside him.

"You always pick the ugliest bastards to be don't you?" A shorter, less imposing demon walked up beside him. Ariste, now Francis rolled his eyes.

"Oui, zhe uglier zhe better. Zhough most of zhe ladies find zhis one charming. Zhe men too." He stated in his heavy French accent and then looked over at his...acquaintance, who scoffed away the comment. This fairly new demon was charged to be his apprentice for the time. Though he really didn't see what Lucifer saw in Balthos. There was no way he would ever collect any hearts for the cause. He was too soft. True, he was a Fallen, but there was something about Balthos that didn't quite fit. Not with the Angels, apparently but Ariste didn't think he belonged among the demon's either. Still, he had to play at pleasantries at least with him, for the time being.

"Ariste-"

"Non, non! When I am in my Persona form, you address moi as such. Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefoy." The demon fussed, flipping his hair back again. He placed his hand on his chest, mocking hurt. It was him getting into character.

"Fine. Whatever, Francis. What are we doing tonight? So I know which Persona to choose." He asked, looking somewhat hopeful. Francis smiled coyly in return.

"Come now, mon ami. I know you 'ave but one Persona to choose from. You are a New Blood, a fresh Demon. Lucifer wouldn't allow you to 'ave more zhen one. Go on, change. I'll wait." Francis crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his foot with a smile.

"You're such an ass..." Balthos returned, before closing his eyes to bring forth his Lost Soul.

Francis made sure to close his eyes when the Soul appeared, in fear of being blinded by the light. His humans eyes were even more sensitive to light then his Demon eyes were. Typical of a new Demon not to warn someone when he was about to change. Balthos had a lot to learn. The last thing the elder Demon needed was to be babysitting a new Demon, teaching him how to collect souls and hearts. It was a bother, a nuisance really. But he didn't have a choice, walking on thin ice as he was.

When he looked back over, Balthos had changed into his one Persona. A slightly shorter, pale human, with a head of unruly blond hair and striking green eyes. He was wearing a plaid vest, with smart looking corduroys. Francis raised an eyebrow, taking him in.

"And who are you?" He asked.

"Arthur Kirkland, Frog. You better remember it too. I'll not be refreshing your memory." He snapped back with a distinct British accent, glaring at Francis. He chuckled and shook his head.

"No one can say zhat Lucifer is without a sense of 'umor. A Frenchman pair with a British gentleman. An age old human rivalry, wouldn't you say, mon ami?" He asked, smiling at him. Arthur now scoffed and crossed his arms in front of him.

"Shut it. There is nothing humorous about being paired with you at all. I just want to get this night over with, lead me to where we are going so that I can watch you fail miserably." He responded, clearly agitated already.

Francis made the portal appear, replacing the mirror in his pocket without offering Arthur a glance. "Well, upon one zhing we can agree. I wish to get zhis night over with quickly as well. Come, allons-y." He said, disappearing into the portal to pass into the human world. Arthur was not far behind him and it closed with a pop.


End file.
